


Momentum

by omphale23



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-14
Updated: 2010-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-08 00:03:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omphale23/pseuds/omphale23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything would be waiting, presumably in working order, when he returned. When they returned. If they returned. If he returned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Momentum

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to [Spring Cleaning](http://omphale23.livejournal.com/50314.html), although it isn't necessary to read that first.
> 
> Thanks to [](http://slidellra.livejournal.com/profile)[**slidellra**](http://slidellra.livejournal.com/) for the beta work, even if her glee at the thought of my going to a special hell was at times a bit...well, gleeful.

_blue blue caravan  
winding down to the valley of lights_

 

Ben spent days carefully weatherproofing the cabin before he left for Chicago. Everything would be waiting, presumably in working order, when he returned. When they returned. If they returned. If he returned.

If not, well, circumstances often changed. Nothing was permanent. Not even geography.

Ray didn't ask many questions, somehow sensed that his frustration--the reason for his relocation--wasn't subject to discussion. Ray took his presence as a gift, an undeserved windfall. Ray acted as if nothing had changed but their address. As if what was broken was healed and now made them stronger.

It was an unexpected blessing. Ben didn't need to speak of the months before he arrived in Chicago for the third time. Didn't need to explain the ways that the comfort of home and the addictive familiarity of Ray ripped at him. The way the sound of the wind made him shiver, and the dark seemed cold and unfamiliar.

He tried not to remember. There were moments when that was enough.

 

_ my true love is a man  
who would hold me for ten thousand nights_

 

In Inuvik, Fraser slept wrapped around him, like he might get up one day and find Ray gone. It had been weird at first, opening his eyes in the morning and having to take a few breaths, remember that the tightness in his chest was love and not fear. Was the weight of how much Fraser needed him.

He got used to it. Came to depend on that comfort. He couldn't sleep alone anymore and he didn't want to try.

The nights alone drove him south. All that silence he couldn't fill.

In Chicago, Fraser slept curled in on himself. Ray threw an arm over his waist, tried to hold them together, but some nights he woke and saw that Fraser had slipped away, was clinging to the edge of the bed in his sleep.

Taking up as little space as possible.

 

_ in the wild wild wailing wind  
he's a house 'neath a soft yellow moon_

 

Purchasing it had been Ray's suggestion. He seemed to believe that what they needed was a sense of belonging. A place to call their own. He insisted that, although it had been sufficient before they left, an apartment was no longer large enough to accommodate the four of them.

That a family needed a home, a place to come back to. Four walls ("and a porch, Ben. It isn't home if you can't sit on the porch and talk to the neighbors." "I wouldn't know anything about neighbors, Ray.") and a garage. A mailbox with their names on it.

He had never needed a mailbox before.

Ben suspected that concrete and asphalt weren't the best environment for the putting down of roots, but he didn't mention this.

Whether he agreed or not didn't matter. A house would make Ray happy, just as having both Chicago and Ben made him happy. Therefore, they would own a house.

It wasn't as if Ray didn't consider his needs. Their new domicile was in a quiet neighborhood, with a fenced yard and a set of trees that bore no resemblance whatsoever to firs.

Dief seemed to believe it the best of both worlds. The turtle had no opinion at all.

There was a park. With sidewalks and a playground and the sound of families laughing whenever he walked or ran there.

It really wasn't anything like home.

 

_ so blue blue caravan  
won't you carry me down to him soon_

 

It should have been the same. They were back in Chicago, back working cases and eating dinner and fighting over whose turn it was to take the fucking wolf out for a run. Everything was the same, only it wasn't.

Everything was the same, only now there were rings and paperwork and a mortgage. Now it was as close to forever as he could make it, and somehow that still wasn't enough. Couldn't defeat all that cold emptiness and the weight of history.

Ray didn't say it, didn't say anything at all about the shadows in Fraser's eyes and the way he flinched at a slamming door. The mornings when he disappeared and came back angry.

Everything was the same, but they had ended up somewhere new. Uncertain and unstable and waiting. Clinging to each other in the middle of it all. Hiding under the covers and pretending the world didn't exist.

Ray didn't say anything. He was scared of what would be left when the words collapsed around his ears.

He didn't know why Fraser stayed, and he didn't know when he would leave. But he knew now that everything ended eventually.

 

_blue blue caravan  
won't you drive away all of these tears_

 

He swore that he wouldn't retreat. Even on the worst days, mornings where the noise of the city was a constant ache in the back of his throat, he ignored the temptation of transfer requests and the hesitation in Ray's touch.

This was where their journey ended, and no one had forced him to make these choices. He had made them, and he would keep his promises.

He thought that Ray might come with him, should he go. But they had already lived that ending.

Ben was a man who learned from experience.

 

_for my true love is a man  
that i haven't seen in years_

 

Fraser was fading away. He looked the same, mostly. Calm and dependable and without a bit of sense when it came to their own personal safety.

But Ray saw him, stood next to him at Frannie's wedding and saw the size of the crowd and the tightness of his jaw. Saw the way Fraser didn't reach out to pull him away from Stella's embrace at the reception, even though he wanted to.

Saw the shifting of his feet as he stood at the edge of the dance floor, watching Ray move across the room, turning Frannie in circles and eventually returning her to the poor schmuck who wanted her and got the kids in the bargain.

Saw the effort it took to smile when Vecchio asked how married life was treating the two of them. Saw the flinch when the good-natured jab to his arm was a little harder than it needed to be.

Lay in bed with him at night and watched the restless shifting of his fingers. Heard the nightmares.

 

_he said "go where you have to  
for i belong to you until my dying day"_

 

Ray asked him to take a vacation. Ben refused.

Ray told him it wasn't working, that he wasn't happy. But he wouldn't look Ben in the eye, and they both knew what that meant. Ben refused.

Ray bribed Diefenbaker to whine about the heat of Chicago summers. It would have been more plausible if he hadn't been stretched beneath the air conditioner at the time. Ben refused.

Ray started arguments about nothing, complained about the noise of the city, threatened to quit his job. Ben refused.

Ray explained that he hadn't been enough for Stella. He pointed out that Ben was miserable, even though they'd silently agreed to pretend otherwise. Ben refused.

Ray begged Ben to leave, to take a break, before they had nothing left.

Ben agreed.

 

_so like a fool blue caravan  
i believed him and i walked away_

 

Fraser didn't leave a note.

He didn't need to. Ray helped him pack, drove him to the airport, kissed him goodbye and swore, he swore and he meant it, dammit, that this would work. That they could do this, live this way and make it feel safe.

Fraser was coming back in the fall. It was a temporary posting, a short break to let them think, let them figure out how to make a life together. Find a place that wasn't too crowded for Ben, wasn't too silent for Ray. Find a place between here and there.

Fraser called it a liminal space. He said it was possible to be two things at the same time. He stared at the wall and he promised to come home.

It hurt, felt like something sitting on his chest, made him stagger and lean against the bathroom wall trying to hold himself together, but he believed it. Thought he could be happy anyway, even if all they got was scattered months, vacations full of violent reunions and really fucking painful goodbyes.

He swore it would be okay and he meant it and he never, ever thought Fraser, thought _Ben_, would believe him.

Not until he stood there and watched it end.

 

_oh my blue blue caravan  
oh the highway's my Great Wall_

 

Inuvik was the same as it had always been. Friendly, comforting, familiar. The cabin was sturdy and had survived the intervening winter admirably.

Everything was in order.

Ray's absence was noted but went without comment. Ben suspected that someone had discreetly spread enough information to prevent questions. He could feel the glances but wasn't given the chance to explain whether his presence was a visit or a return.

The taste of his gratitude was unpleasant, harsh and bitter.

It was miserable. It was home.

 

_my true love is a man  
who never existed at all_

 

There was a calendar on the wall with a date circled in red.

It was the day Fraser was (wasn't) coming home.

But until that day arrived they could both pretend. Act like things were temporary, like nothing had really changed. Like people didn't change. Like they did, and anyone could tell the difference.

It was summer in Chicago, and Ray was freezing.

His hands were cold. He couldn't get enough hot coffee. His fingers were numb. He wore sweaters and hats and would have worn a scarf but that led to questions he didn't want to answer.

He piled blankets on the bed and opened the windows and imagined himself somewhere else.

 

_oh he was a beautiful fiction  
i invented to keep out the cold_

 

He'd been expecting a letter from Ray; although their communications were sometimes fraught with things unspoken, they were regular. Letters, phone calls, always too few meetings. It wasn't enough, but he told himself it was something. More than he deserved, and he would hold to it as long as Ray was willing to pretend that the situation was satisfactory.

He took what he could have and tried not to think about more. But he searched each letter for the same words.

He waited to hear Ray say, "Please come home."

 

_but now my blue blue caravan  
i can feel my heart growing old_

 

He was tired, and this was a stupid idea. He couldn't do it, didn't want to be the selfless one. Fuck Fraser's need for snow, they belonged together.

Three beers, maybe four, and he'd be ready to say just that. But since there were only two in the fridge, he stopped to pick up a few more. Two for courage, two to celebrate (mourn) the answer.

Two to share when Fraser's plane landed, and Ray wasn't so distracted by the thought of homecomings that he didn't see how nervous the cashier was. The way that her eyes kept shifting to the floor behind the counter. The glint of a barrel in the safety mirror.

His hands were steady. (Why wouldn't they be?) He'd been a cop for fifteen years. It was an arrest like any other. Right up until it wasn't.

 

_oh my blue blue caravan  
i can feel my heart growing old_

 

Ben took the envelope back to his cabin and left it on the table. He changed his clothing and it was still there. He chopped wood and fed the dogs. He moved the envelope to the coffee table. He heated dinner and ate it. He cleaned the kitchen. He waited for Dief to return. He thought of retiring for the night, but it would still be waiting in the morning.

The writing on the envelope didn't belong to Ray.

He knew Ray's writing, had learned it even before he admitted why he stored such things away. Ray's writing and watching him, hunched over the page, tongue between his teeth. His hair after a shower, slicked down or mussed by a towel. His smile in the morning. Eyes closed, mouth open, head thrown back. The play of sunlight across his hips. Skin against pale sheets.

The warmth of his voice on the phone. Songs around a campfire. Quiet whispers with the glow of streetlights. Shouts across a snowfield.

His laugh, the sound of it and the way that his body shook with delight, vibrated the entire bed. The weight of Ray's arm, heavy with sleep or steady on his shoulders. Clasped hands. An embrace.

The slick warmth of his mouth. The rough slide of his hands on a noisy afternoon. Ray's teeth sharp against his shoulder, his fingers gripping hard in the dark.

The scent of leather and cigarettes and cinnamon and whiskey. The taste of Ray's skin. Sugar and chocolate and the sharp tang of coffee.

There were four objects in the envelope.

A cheque. His name printed as the recipient.

A form letter. Familiar letterhead and his name typed in the salutation. Disconnected phrases, "regret to inform" and "await further instructions" and "previous attempts to contact" and "official benefit notification."

A chain. Cheap steel, long enough to be a necklace.

A note. His name scrawled at the top, no greeting, no explanation. "I'm sorry. Come back, we'll talk. I owe you that. H. Welsh."

 

****

 

"Blue Caravan," Vienna Teng

_blue blue caravan  
winding down to the valley of lights  
my true love is a man  
who would hold me for ten thousand nights_

in the wild wild wailing wind  
he's a house 'neath a soft yellow moon  
so blue blue caravan  
won't you carry me down to him soon

blue blue caravan  
won't you drive away all of these tears  
for my true love is a man  
that i haven't seen in years

he said "go where you have to  
for i belong to you until my dying day"  
so like a fool blue caravan  
i believed him and i walked away

oh my blue blue caravan  
oh the highway's my Great Wall  
my true love is a man  
who never existed at all

oh he was a beautiful fiction  
i invented to keep out the cold  
but now my blue blue caravan  
i can feel my heart growing old

oh my blue blue caravan  
i can feel my heart growing old

 

****


End file.
